


One Need Not Be A Chamber To Be Haunted

by Lizicia



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, New Year's Eve, but not too much, two lonely people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizicia/pseuds/Lizicia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'New Year's Eve found Caitlin sitting on the roof of the S.T.A.R. Labs and admiring the view it offered her of Central City, lighted up and twinkling below her. She's always loved the city infinitely more than any other landscape, something about the sheer size and vastness so unexpectedly peaceful and comforting.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Need Not Be A Chamber To Be Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Have some New Year's Eve not-quite-celebrations.  
> Title from Emily Dickinson: _One need not be a chamber to be haunted, one need not to be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place._  
>  Also posted on Tumblr and FF.net

New Year's Eve found Caitlin sitting on the roof of the S.T.A.R. Labs and admiring the view it offered her of Central City, lighted up and twinkling below her. She's always loved the city infinitely more than any other landscape, something about the sheer size and vastness so unexpectedly peaceful and comforting.

She feels like she could get lost there, lose whoever she's supposed to be every other day of her life, and just be one of many, not having to answer for anything.

There is a certain wistfulness in the air and as she passed through the throngs of people on her way over to S.T.A.R. Labs, she could feel their excitement for the year's passing, the impossible hope that somehow, waking up on January 1st, it is a brand new time, and everything is possible again, a clean slate offered as if by magic alone.

But she stopped believing in magic a while ago – a year ago, to be quite exact – and there is nothing to give her the idea that tomorrow it would all be different. Cisco and Barry asked her to spend the evening with them, having a small party, she appreciated the offer but knew that this one night had to belong only to her.

She isn't quite sure that will ever change.

A cold gust of wind brushes past her and she rearranges her scarf. She doesn't feel cold – has always enjoyed much lower temperatures than everyone around her – but she isn't exactly keen on getting a cold from sitting on the roof in December either.

“This is certainly a surprise.”

Caitlin startles out of her thoughts and it's only instinct and the implicit realization of who the voice belongs to that keeps her from shouting.

“Dr. Wells!”

She hadn't heard the door opening or the unmistakeable sound of his wheelchair but when he comes to a stop beside her, she notices that he isn't there by mistake but properly dressed and slightly amused at the sight of her.

“I have to say, this is the first year I've seen anyone but myself here. I thought you would be celebrating with Cisco and Barry.”

His answer surprises her; she had no idea this would be _his spot_ or something of the kind but then again, who else would choose to watch everything from afar and observe it quietly?

“I wasn't in a party mood. And this is the best place to watch the fireworks.”

He nods and watches her carefully, with the same intense scrutiny he applies to everything but framed with a softness that somehow always applies to her, though not for anyone else.

“How about a drink then?”

He offers her the flask she didn't notice at first and she accepts, taking a sip and appreciating the taste of really old and really good Scotch. His taste has always been excellent and she is reminded of the fact that he was the one who convinced her to try whiskey for the first time and remembers their late nights of just having a small tumbler when needed, sitting down and unwinding.

Those carefree evenings seem like a lifetime ago now.

He doesn't say or ask anything more, choosing instead to just sit beside her in silence but it's not uncomfortable or unnerving, rather soothing. Caitlin feels something loosen inside of her – maybe it's the Scotch or maybe it's just him – and chooses to break the silence, surprising herself.

“Do you know what day it is today?”

“I'm guessing you don't mean New Year's Eve.”

The corners of her mouth tip slightly upwards and she shakes her head softly. “Today would've been my wedding anniversary.”

She can feel the engagement ring she still chooses to wear on her finger, weighing it down like it quite doesn't on every other day, burning with the reminder of everything that could've been, the spot where her wedding band would've been always remaining empty.

“I do remember, Caitlin. It was the only day you were willing to use, not wanting to take any vacation days you would've deserved.”

His voice is quiet and soft and she is hit with the thought that while Barry was a good listener when she told him about Ronnie, Wells also knew him and saw first hand the devastation his death had on her. She remembers very little actual details from the funeral service they held for Ronnie – because there was no body to be buried – but the warmth of Wells' hand on her knuckles is somehow forever burned into her sensory memory.

“We had a plan to come up here after the party, to see the fireworks, just the two of us. To just _be_.”

Her voice wavers ever so slightly but doesn't quite crack; she is sure Wells doesn't miss that.

“If you want me to go, Caitlin-”

“No.” She cuts him off and looks straight into his eyes, finding nothing but warmth and comfort and a reflection of her own pain.

“It's fine. I just...I don't even know why I'm talking about this. It's New Year's Eve and I'm moping on a rooftop.”

He offers her the flask again, wordlessly, and she accepts, glancing upwards for a moment to see him assessing her and almost like contemplating something he is unsure about. She turns her gaze back to the city and watches the sea of lights, offering her comfort in a way she has never known to ask for.

“When I first moved to Central City, I used to look for places like this, somewhere high up to see the city. And whenever it felt like the past was too close, I could just take this all in and...forget. Not think about whatever had happened, just live in this moment of perfect solitude.”

He seems far away in this moment, looking down at the city and speaking from a place so personal and intimate that Caitlin feels like she's the one intruding. Even when they used to talk before, he never implied to anything in his past, though she is aware of his marriage and Dr. Tess Morgan, having read his biography more times than she would ever admit.

“Does it get better?”

She has never been this bold but it seems like a moment that she dares to voice that question, dares to compare his experience to her own, even if he is a widower – she's never thought of that word before but it seems utterly desolate to know that it applies to him – and she doesn't even know what her situation with Ronnie really is.

He doesn't seem upset by her question but takes a moment to consider it. “The most accurate description would be to say that it fades. You don't even realize it but one day you can think of them without immediately reminding yourself that they are no longer there. You stop living in the pain and start remembering the good. It will never be okay but it _will_ be better.”

She doesn't quite know how to respond but as the sky fills with fireworks, the moment disappears and they both look at the colorful explosions.

Caitlin closes her eyes against them, wishing for that feeling of a blank slate to appear, to make it seem like there's nothing behind either of them, just a whole year of something ahead, a year of possibilities and chances and the hope of being better.

Wells takes her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles, his hand as warm as she remembers, so quickly that she almost misses it but opens her eyes just in time to catch his gaze as he lets go of her hand.

“May the next year be better for you, Caitlin.”

The sincerity with which he says it hits her right in the chest and she is glad he hasn't for once offered her empty platitudes or meaningless words.

“For both of us.”

He seems sorrowful but smiles at her softly, the on-going fireworks reflecting on his glasses.

She feels the magic of the clean slate just this once.


End file.
